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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842966">And Miles to Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior'>TheFalconWarrior</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And There Was a Sound of Thunder [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Thunderstorms, sibling stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:46:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some nights Tim's thoughts go places he'd rather they didn't. Some nights Tim decides he doesn't WANT his thoughts to go those places. <br/>As little as that helps.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And There Was a Sound of Thunder [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And Miles to Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Might as well, right?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Timothy Drake hadn’t been afraid of thunder since he was five. </p><p>He<em> had</em> been, up to that point. Loud noises, menacing and crackling and <em>sudden</em>. What little kid wasn’t? </p><p>But a stray remark from Mrs. Mac, a (likely unhealthy) obsession with finding <em>answers</em>, and numerous science books and documentaries cured that. </p><p>Well, in any case, he was more afraid of the lightning than the thunder, after that. </p><p>There are some science documentaries five-year-olds should not watch. </p><p>But now, mostly, thunderstorms made him think about <em>loneliness</em>. Made him remember curling up as far from a window or water as he could get, alone in a giant, empty manor where every boom and crash of thunder echoed through the halls and rooms, counting seconds like he’d seen the parents do in cartoons and wishing he’d had someone there to do it with him.  </p><p>Besides, something about thunder is very big, and as of such, has a way of making one feel very small. </p><p>Which, in turn, led to the kind of thoughts Tim preferred to avoid while laying alone in his bedroom at night trying to<em> sleep. </em> </p><p>Nights like these, Tim could think himself into an existential crisis in seven minutes flat. </p><p>But nope, it was not happening tonight, <em>nope, it’s not</em>, and damn he already felt tense as a familiar, nameless anxiety filled his mind.  </p><p>He blinked at the ceiling. Stupid brain. </p><p>The feeling would only last until he fell asleep, he knew. He'd likely wake up in the morning completely fine, without that unsettled pit in his stomach and almost-nausea crawling up his throat, and here he was thinking himself in circles and feeding his growing anxiety by trying not to and he just<em> needed to fall asleep</em>. </p><p><em> Crrrrrrashhhhhk. </em> </p><p>But, of course, there was a damn thunderstorm outside. </p><p>Alright, time for Plan B. </p><p> </p><p>There was a sitting room across from and two doors down from the kitchen which was everyone’s favorite, when they wanted company. Tim, on his way to the kitchen, noticed the dimmed lights and the sound of the TV before he’d reached the door. </p><p>He paused just out of sight of the doorway. Everyone was at the Manor tonight—Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass and Damian—Alfred had insisted once the rain started up. Tim bit the inside of his lip as he debated whether or not to check on who it was. Sure, they each had a room where they’d hide out if they wanted to be alone, and this was the last room anyone would go to to be alone, but still. Maybe a twenty percent chance that whoever it was inside wouldn’t appreciate Tim popping in, and he hadn't decided yet if it was worth it. </p><p>“I can hear ya out there, shrimp.” </p><p>Well. </p><p>Someone<em> else</em> chuckled, warm, and Tim stepped forward, one hand on the doorway. </p><p>Dick smiled at him, leaned against the armrest of the couch wrapped up in a blanket, Jason mirroring his position at the other armrest. </p><p>Dick didn’t hold up an arm the way he always had back when Tim was thirteen and awkward and unsure, but with the raised eyebrows and inviting smile he may as well have. All plans of coffee and maybe a video game forgotten, Tim padded over and sat down next to Dick, who freed an arm to wrap around Tim’s shoulders, tugging him down into his side and covering them both with the afghan. </p><p>The next crash of thunder drowned out the sound from the TV, taking him by surprise, and Tim flinched. Dick rubbed a thumb over his arm. </p><p>“Oi, back up a bit,” Jason demanded. </p><p>“You have the remote, genius.” </p><p>Jason grumbled as he shifted around, searching for the remote he’d misplaced. </p><p>Tim squinted at the screen. </p><p>He had always prided himself in his perspective when it came to people. He’d been analyzing Batman and Robin since he was nine, after all.  </p><p>He’s noticed the way that, on random rainy nights—not all of them—Dick would just stare out at the rain and get lost in his own head, or flinch at the rolls of thunder. </p><p>With their line of work, there were a lot of reasons not to like loud, startling sounds. Rain was a bit different, though. Tim had his ideas, but Dick generally preferred not to talk about it in the moment and Tim had always been a little afraid to be the one to bring it up after. So it all went unsaid. </p><p>Jason, though. Jason was pretty obvious. </p><p>Apparently, tonight Tim’s brothers had decided to deal with their traumas by watching noisy action movies at top volume and insulting the actors at every opportunity. Why, exactly, or how they’d come to that agreement, he didn’t really know. </p><p>But. Tim was warm, tucked into Dick’s side. His toes were pressed against Jason’s legs stretched over the couch, and Dick was rubbing his arm under the blanket. </p><p>He didn’t fight it when his eyes drifted shut. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And yeah, I turned this into a series cause like. idk I wanted to leave the other one to just Jason and Dick.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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